Her Own Private Victory
by aelisa
Summary: Elliot Reid finally gets the victory she's been, secretly, craving for months, and she doesn't care if nobody else knows of it.
1. Chapter 1

"Okay, okay, I got it!" Turk called, his voice only slurring a little despite the amount of alcohol he'd already consumed. "Baby, you… and Jordan!"

As the others roared with laughter at the so-not-funny suggestion, my blue eyes widened, and I shook my head with a nervous laugh. It was just the beers talking. And even _if_ Carla and Jordan were game, surely, Dr Cox wouldn't watch his ex-wife-but-still-wife kiss another woman. Particularly not one he once loved.

Looking up, expecting to see Dr Cox's face straighten, and hear him spout the word 'no' in various ways in ten seconds flat, I blew my bangs out of my face, satisfied that this 'dare' would go no further. My smile slackened when Dr Cox said nothing, but shrugged one shoulder. It was Carla who threw him the questioning look, seeking silent permission. Jordan was rolling her eyes and moving towards Carla almost as soon as the suggestion was out there.

She clearly thought it was lame.

That was when it was confirmed. I had a thing for the damned harridan. Carla and Jordan's locked, alcohol-stained lips sparked a range of unforeseen emotions within me. I did not like it. "Frick…" I muttered; they were doing tongues! Jordan's elegantly manicured hand held Carla's face, firm enough to show who was in charge, but not enough to bruise.

'_I'd_ let her bruise _me_,' I thought childishly as they finally pulled apart to oaf-like cheers from JD and Turk and a sigh from Dr Cox. Turk was most drunk, and he cheered the loudest. He didn't notice that JD looked more awkward than usual, so he wouldn't notice the look on my face. I suddenly wanted to beat them all over the head with beer bottles until they shut up.

I hated alcohol. It was messing with my head, making me believe that my lingering glances when she breezed past me effortlessly at work were more than just… natural instinct. I couldn't have a thing for _her_. I was straight! Downing the remainder of my drink so quickly that it burned my throat, I stood up and told my friends that I was going to the bathroom.

Had they spared me a glance, I would have avoided their eyes. As it were, Jordan and Dr Cox were too busy trying to eat each other, whilst Turk sung sweet nothings to an inebriated Carla. As I slipped past, JD pinched my thigh, as if to say 'don't leave me with these people!'

For once, JD would have to deal with it by himself. Two minutes in the bathroom of this club was critical for what remained of my mental health.

Before I realised that there was anyone else in there I leaned against the main door. The other woman raised her eyebrows judgementally; I laughed awkwardly, starting to babble explanations about my mother always telling me to check up on my appearance when I was out. Until I was squashed against the adjacent wall by someone entering the washroom. "Double frick!"

"Hey Freckles, beat it." My heart fell as I heard her speak. I stepped inside properly without thinking, apologising stupidly to the affronted-looking woman as she obeyed Jordan's orders. I loved how she could control people like that. My blood felt hot, embarrassingly excited, as my shoes extended the distance between myself and Jordan Sullivan. Why had she followed me in here? What did she want?

I must've made eye contact with her. Dr Cox once told JD that looking into her eyes could result in the theft of your soul, but I'd always laughed it off. Still, I avoided direct eye contact, because I was sure she would know. I was sure she could read my thoughts just by looking into my eyes. She could _not_ see what I was thinking; Jordan would delight in my little crush on her, and I've never been naïve enough to believe that she would keep quiet about it.

I moved to the sinks absently, distracting myself with my appearance. I busied my hands with brushing my hair out of my face, and as I moved to pull my lipstick out of my purse, my eyes flicked to her nervously. She was just watching me, and when she noticed me looking, I saw her lips curl into a smile. I avoided looking at her reflection in the mirror, the way her body looked as she leaned against the sinks and stared reflection Elliot.

"Ok, what?" I couldn't keep quiet; her standing there and doing nothing but look at me was freaking me out. There was little tension in the air between us – she was perfectly casual – but all of me felt heated; scared, excited and anxious. "Have you come in here just to freak me out? Because I didn't tell you about my toilet talking issue for you to use it against me!"

She just looked at me for a moment, then sighed and turned her back on me to look into the mirror behind her. "Yeah, you're the one doing the talking, Stick. I'm not stopping you from going pee pee," she pointed out, her patronising baby voice making my cheeks flush. Lifting my chin in the air, I moved away from the sink and walked passed Jordan, deliberately not looking at her. I quite liked my soul where it was.

Whatever a soul was.

As soon as my cubicle door was shut, I regretted my decision. I'd never, ever, pee whilst Jordan was in the same room as me. Why? I don't know, I just… couldn't. Instead, I leaned against the back of the door and panicked. What the hell was I going to do? Hopefully, she'd get bored and leave. But she didn't. I was stood there for ages listening to her, and she was probably laughing at me on the other side of the door.

Three knocks on my door caused me to jump and kick the toilet. "Damn," I whined under my breath, "What?" My voice came out snappier than I intended it to, but I was freaked out and backing into a fricking toilet.

"Oh Barbie, there you are. It's just you pee so silently that I thought you'd spontaneously died or something. Just checking you're alive." She did not ask what I was doing, nor whether I was ever coming out. I said nothing, but made a weird sort of noise. "Open the door." Her order, her voice, was so strong that I obeyed immediately. Something in her eyes told me that she loved the power she had over me, though I quickly looked away from her.

"What do you want?" I asked, trapped in my cubicle.

"I told you, I was checking you're ok."

"Why did I have to open the door?"

"Why so many questions?"

"I… You never answer! You're always so fricking cryptic! I only want to know what you want."

She smiled, "Oh no, no, Elliot. You should be asking yourself what you want, because you know what I think? I think you're very confused. You have about five seconds to decide what to do."

I looked at her frantically, terrified but thrilled. "Look, I-" And then she kissed me.


	2. Chapter 2

How could I have possibly made up my mind in five seconds?

I'd lusted after this woman for months, and only recently was I coming to terms with it. So for her to follow me in here and kiss me like this, on the night when I realised the full extent of my feelings, was kinda scary. And unexpected. Her lips were surprisingly warm, her hand on my face possessive and controlling.

Like she'd done to Carla.

As Jordan wound her arm around my waist and drew me closer, a thought struck me; I stiffened further. What if this, too, was a dare? That would be entirely too embarrassing for me. Still, I suppose I could tell everyone that she'd hardly seduced me into it, but thrown herself at me. This had nothing to do with me…

I wished shock was all I could feel, but every part of me was heated by her hot, full lips. Excitement and arousal coursed through my system, and yet the only parts of me I could move were my lips and tongue. I wanted to touch her, though this desire was balanced by the nagging voice telling me to pull away.

"Definitely confused," she mumbled triumphantly, before pulling away from me and leaving me stood in the cubicle, resembling a startled codfish.

"Doesn't take a frickin' genius," I muttered to myself. Of course I was confused; who wouldn't be? I knew I was a two beer queer (drunken kisses with cheerleaders in high school and a really odd encounter with my mom's best friend when I graduated med school testified for that), but I liked Jordan when I was perfectly undrunk. My attraction to her was not just a one off, but a persistent, stubborn itch that I was petrified of.

"What was that, Stick?" She called, and I rolled my eyes. I knew her calling me Elliot was a rare occurrence, and I'd had my annual dosage just before she kissed me.

She kissed me.

I followed her out of the cubicle and stood a few metres behind her, folding my arms protectively as I stared at her, "Why did you do that?" She simply smirked at me, knowing in her dark eyes. "It is so not funny!" My voice was high-pitched and disbelieving as she chuckled lightly, revelling in my discomfort and need for answers. She clearly liked to be in control, and she knew I, Blonde Stick, was putty in her hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have been labouring under the misapprehension that this, right here, was mildly comical. But thanks for letting me know that my amusement is misplaced, Barbie," she nodded sarcastically, "Yeah, that really helps."

I glared at her. "You're really mean," I responded stupidly, feeling like a child as her eyes scanned me.

"I like mean," she shrugged, stepping towards me and beginning to twirl a piece of my hair with her fingers. "You know that. You've known that since the first time you looked at me. You, my dear, have an issue because you _kept _looking," a brief, triumphant smile, "You like mean too."

"Look, Jordan," I replied flatly, trying to ignore the close proximity between us, "I don't know what you want; you've won your little dare, you've had your little laugh at me. Go eat a baby or whatever it is you do when you win at something, but just leave me alone to… to…"

"Panic? Wonder whether this really just happened? Worry about your sexuality a little more? Oh, oh! Concoct a grand plan on how you can escape out of this place without anyone seeing you go?" Her sarcastic excitement was really beginning to get to me, and I pulled away from her (having to force myself not to wince as a few strands of my hair parted with my head), heading for the door.

"I don't have to listen to this."

She laughed lightly, eyes boring into me as my hand touched the sliding lock of the main door. "'Course you don't, Stick. You don't have to do anything you don't want to." She came right up behind me, walking two fingers up from my mid-back to my shoulder. "But that just there is another problem we encounter," her voice was a honey-laced, wicked whisper. I was frozen. "You do want to listen to this."

She was right. Since we became sort of friends, I'd sought Jordan's approval. I wanted to… I don't know, impress her. When I got her attention, I always felt proud of myself - like a child. Except children wouldn't think such weird things: I more than idolised this woman. Even if she was a Vulcan.

"Ok, Miss Mean, what is it that I want to hear? Because really, I am just dying to know!" Though I made sure my voice dripped with sarcasm as I turned back to face Jordan, I was quite anxious for the answer. She laughed, inclining her head to one side as she surveyed me.

"You want me to tell you that you're perfectly normal to feel that way. You want me to be all narcissistic and let you know that everyone has a bit of thing for Jordan and that you, darling, are no exception."

Well, yeah, something like that.

Still, I scoffed and rolled my eyes, "You really don't know me at all." I had to say that, because even though I knew that was not true, maybe Jordan would believe it.

Oh, who the frick was I kidding? She wasn't stupid, and even if she was, she could still read my mind or something. It was quite unnerving. She grinned. "You want me to tell you all that even though you don't believe it. You think you're so different, so special, that no normal female has ever thought of another woman the way you think of me."

My mouth fell open a little, and Jordan cut me off as I began to argue. "Well guess what? You're not. And I'm not going to stand here and satisfy your neurotic need for reassurance – that's just not me, honey. You're just gonna have to accept that liking another woman, even when you're not pissed, doesn't necessarily make you gay. Or special." She stopped, eyes travelling from my parted lips to my wide, stunned eyes as she moved me out of the way of the door. "No, Barbie," she leaned in, whispering in my ear, "you're just like the rest of us."

I stood in the doorway of the bathroom, ignoring the crying thirty-something as she shoved past me, watching Jordan walk away, bewildered. "And guess what? The rest of us rarely get what we want either," I heard her call back to me, her voice ringing clear and scarring.

Her dark, sparkling eyes looked me up and down once more, before she shook her head and made towards our table.

As I, too, made my way back to the others, I decided that I would've given anything to have read Jordan's mind just then. There was something about her that spoke of secrecy, something that let me know that her kissing me hadn't been a dare…

A small, triumphant smile settled on my face as I slid back into my seat.

She'd noticed me.


End file.
